Battle of the Sexes
by Lady Caite
Summary: AU. Bulma, a physical therapist, has to treat an injured Vegeta. It won't be easy, he's a stubborn bullheaded rich man, and she well...isn't. But she isn't going to take crap from anyone. Not even Vegeta. Prepare yourself for a battle of the sexes.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ....  
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Bulma Briefs looked into the rearview mirror of her small car, applying a quick coat of mascara. Blinking furiously, she gingerly tried to remove the flakes of mascara from her eye. Well, I guess that's what you get for sleeping in. A wounded eyeball and no coffee. She reapplied the mascara once more, a little more carefully.   
  
  
  
Bulma yanked her hair back into a ponytail while sliding out of her car and shutting the door with her hip. She glanced at her watch, and broke into a run. 5 minutes late. On a Monday. Bulma had the sinking feeling that this was the bad start to an even worse week. Reaching the double glass doors, she whipped them open and bolted inside, not waiting for the automatic doors to open by themselves.   
  
  
  
Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! I know...I know...I'm late. Again. Bulma flushed under the scrutiny from the secretary at the front desk. I had a little trouble this morning.   
  
  
  
The matronly woman didn't look appeased. She frowned as she took in Bulma's appearance. Blue nylon exercise pants and a white tanktop coupled with a pair of green running shoes. I can see that. Shaking her head, she sighed loudly. I like working with you, Bulma, I really do. But if you keep coming late like this, I don't know how much longer you will be here.   
  
  
  
Debbie, will you please just give me my log? Bulma forced a smile through gritted teeth. Taking the booklet from the woman, she signed in. Have a nice morning! She grinned at Debbie, muttering under her breath, You unctuous bitch. How Bulma hated that woman. Ever since she had begun her job at the prestigious clinic, that she-devil had given her hell each morning, late or on time.   
  
  
  
Bulma was quite good at her job. In fact, she enjoyed it. Most of the time, anyway. The majority of the people she treated were not too seriously injured. In the year and a half since she had graduated college, Bulma had been struck only twice. After the first time, she had become much more attuned to emotions. Wounded animals attacked when in pain. The same went for wounded people.   
  
  
  
Walking through another set of double doors, Bulma took a deep breath and readied herself for her first patient of the day. Alan Marsters had had surgery to correct a deformity in both of his knees. It was Bulma's job to help him walk again. Generally, not to difficult a task. With anyone _other_ than Alan Marsters. The man was as horny as a bull and seemed to have more arms than octopus. He was also married.  
  
  
  
Turning down a corridor that led to the back side of the building, Bulma walked to the room that held the parallel bars and a compilation of other equipment... as well as Alan Marsters.   
  
  
  
Resigned to the fact that procrastination, no matter how appealing it seemed, got you nowhere, Bulma opened the door and walked briskly in. She smiled politely at the slight man sitting in the wheelchair. Good morning, Mr. Marsters. Let's move to the parallel bars today. I think you are finally ready for them.  
  
  
  
Marsters grinned lasciviously at Bulma. I told you to call me Alan, Bulma. I'm ready for the parallel bars anytime you are. Or anywhere else, for that matter.   
  
  
  
Bulma stood by the bars, looking down at him, eyebrow raised. Must I remind you, Mr. Marsters, that ours is a _professional_ relationship? Her other eyebrow rose to join the first.   
  
  
  
Marsters sighed, trying to look disappointed and sensual at the same time, failing miserably.   
  
  
  
Bulma watched as he hoisted himself up onto the bars, and went through the exercises she had instructed. Offering words of encouragement, carefully keeping them free of anything that could be misconstrued as affection, Bulma stood by his discarded wheelchair. Frowning slightly, she could hear excited voices coming down the hall. Good job, Mr. Marsters. Keep it up, I will be right back. She walked towards the door to see what the commotion was, but was stopped as two people came into the room.   
  
  
  
Miss Briefs! There you are! Please, walk with me for a moment. A squat balding man in a suit, whom she recognized as Mr. William Anhurst, the owner of the clinic, gestured towards the hall.  
  
  
  
What about my patient? Can't this wait another minute? We're nearly finished. Bulma looked perturbed. That cow Debbie couldn't be right, could she? Was she, Bulma Briefs, actually getting fired?  
  
  
  
Veronica will take over for you, Miss Briefs. A tall dark haired woman walked over to the bars. Bulma felt a pang of anger. This was _her_ job! Even if the patient was a pervert, she had invested too many hours and endured too much to let someone else take over. The man continued to talk, placing a hand on Bulma's elbow, steering her out the door. Last spring, you treated a man who suffered from a stroke. Am I right?   
  
  
  
Bulma glanced at him sharply. Last spring I treated many men who suffered from strokes. It's part of my job. What was he getting at?  
  
  
  
Anhurst chuckled. Yes, I am aware that that is part of your job, and that you take your work very seriously. That is why I am here with you now. He stopped, and turned to look at her. You are aware that this is the most prestigious, renowned clinic on the continent? When Bulma nodded, he continued. Last spring you treated the head of the most powerful family this civilized world has ever seen. A Mr. Vegeta no Ouji.  
  
  
  
Bulma scowled, recalling the ornery and fiery older man who had tested her mental endurance beyond belief. No one in the clinic could get through to him. Before their first round of working with him had ended, they fled from the room. Bulma had been ready to run away screaming as well, but when he had thrown a glass of water at her, drenching her from head to toe, she had snapped. Maybe it was her display of inner fire, or that he saw she actually possessed a spine, she didn't know. He tolerated her. By the time she had succeeded in helping him gain back the power of speech and mobility, she was completely spent. It had taken a two week vacation, gifted by the clinic, in the Bahamas, to bring her back to normal. Yes. I remember him. Why? No way in hell was she working with him again, even for a two week vacation.   
  
  
  
Well. The no Ouji's have a son.  
  
  
  
What does that have to do with me? Bulma glared at him, already knowing what was coming.   
  
  
  
As I was saying, the no Ouji's have a son, Vegeta. He was injured in repelling accident. He has lost the use of his legs, and some of the mobility in his arms.   
  
  
  
Bulma looked him straight in the eye, arms folded. I'm not treating him. She almost laughed at the flabbergasted look on the stout man's face. If he's anything like his father, and I imagine he's probably worse, how the hell am I supposed to get through to him?   
  
  
  
They are willing to pay you $20,000 a day, pay for your traveling expenses, a new wardrobe, and accommodations. He left out the fact that she would be living with them, and that she had no choice, really; they were sending escorts' the next morning who were taking her to the no Oujis, willing or no.   
  
  
  
Bulma's mind worked figures. It took the elder no Ouji two months to recover. It would be at least that long for the son's recovery, most likely. If she went, that would earn her over a million dollars. She could retire. Never work again. AND a new wardrobe to boot. Where do the no Ouji's live? Her greed warred with her nerves. _Say yes!!! Yes yes yes yes yes!!!!!! _Her mind screamed at her to agree. _Well_, Bulma thought, _who am I to disagree with myself? _  
  
  
  
The no Ouji's live all over the world, they have more mansions than there are countries. The one in which you will be working, has not yet been disclosed. Actually, it had, but Anhurst knew that if Bulma knew she was headed for the wilds of Canada, she would never consent.   
  
  
  
Bulma eyed him, suspicious. Fine. I will go. But I am taking the rest of the day off to go shopping. She waited for him to refuse.  
  
  
  
Anhurst smiled, handing her a card. Actually, I was going to suggest you do just that. This is a credit card, from the no Ouji's. There is a $750,000 limit on it. He grinned. Per store.   
  
  
  
**Well? What do you think? Please review and tell me, if you like it, if it stinks, whatever. I just want some feedback. Hmm...in the next chapter, Bulma meets Veggie...and Veggie meets his match. Get ready for a battle of the sexes! ^^ Thanks for reading! ^^**


	2. Feet, Mud, and Walking in a Woodland Won...

**I am soooo sorry for this HUGE ASS delay. This is my first update on this story since I wrote it, thanks to new semesters at school (which I totally underestimated) and a major case of writer's block. BUT, getting to the part you most likely want to hear, Im on vacation so I can write write write! Esp now that I have a newly discovered focus for this story ^_^ Anyways, hope you enjoy this and I'll update when I get some feedback! Peace!  
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***Thanks for all of you guys who reviewed! I'm doin' this for you guys cause you gave the most feedback for the story I've updated the least. *cough* never *cough* ^_^;;  
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Bulma cradeled her head in her hands, exhausted. The realization that for the first time in her life, she was out-shopped. Bags upon bags littered her house. She had to literally climb over and squeeze through narrow path ways in the mounds of purchase, to get from room to room. Once she was through rehabilitating that no Ouji boy, she would sell her little house and buy a new one somewhere. She just didnt know exactly where, yet. And now, seated on the plane headed to that undisclosed' location, she wasn't in the mood to bother about that.   
  
  
A masseuse worked her magic on Bulma's weary feet, sending her into a state of sleepy bliss. A thought weaseled its unwelcome way into her unguarded thoughts. The wealth of the no Oujis was no question, as it was limitless. But why were they being so generous? She had recieved nothing to this magnitude for working with the senior Mr. no Ouji. Her brow furrowed. She opened her eyes, looking at the masseuse who was hard at work on her feet.   
  
  
Have you ever met the no Ouji's son? I mean, working for them, you must have come accross him before.   
  
  
The masseuse paused unintentionally, and resumed work, not meeting Bulma's eyes. That could either be because she wanted to give her undivided attention to the feet (which Bulma highly doubted was the case, being somewhat skilled in massage herself, and besides, feet were disgusting), or Bulma had touched a nerve.   
  
  
No, I've never met him. We aren't permitted to talk about the no Oujis.   
  
  
Bulma felt increasingly less at ease.   
  
  
Uhm... can you tell me anything about him? I'm going into this arrangement with no prior knowledge about my patient, except for his medical information, and even that seems to have been watered down.   
  
  
The masseuse set Bulma's foot on the silk cushion. Picking up a towel from the floor, she wiped the lotion off of her hands, and smoothed a wisp of hair off of her newly flushed face.  
  
  
I'm sorry I can't tell you anything other than that the scheduled landing time is in five minutes, and you might want to put your boots on.  
  
  
Bulma squinted. _Boots? _Slowly she turned her head toward the window, for the first time during the flight, of her surroundings. Pine trees. Lots of pine trees. Her mouth parted slightly in shock.   
  
  
Where the hell am I??   
  
  
No one answered, and she turned back to look at the masseuse, but she had already made her escape from Bulma's interrogation.   
  
  
she rubbed her forehead. Five fucking minutes till Camp Crystal Lake. For those of you who dont know, its from the Jason movies.. just an analogy I take NO ownership of any of the characters or places mentioned in this story. ^_^;; Who in their right mind would BUILD a house, let alone an estate out... out.... she snorted, I don't even know where here' is.   
  
  
She grumbled to herself as she replaced her _sandals_. All of her other shoes and clothes that she had brought on this to be adventure were stored somewhere else on the plane. Praying there wouldnt be knee-deep muck on the ground, she sat white-faced in her seat. Nerves had finally begun to sink in. She looked out the window as a huge estate came into view. Her brow furrowed. _Hmmm... this isn't as large as I expected it to be. _She looked more closely as they neared the main building. Slash that, it wasnt one building, it was a large main building surrounded on the sides and back by multiple other smaller buildings. All of which were built with   
  
  
A voice broke through her twisted revery. Please fasten your sealtbelt, we are now preparing to land.   
  
  
Bulma, too shell-shocked to comply, still stared out the window at what was turning out to be Paul Bunyon's paradise. The plane dipped into a sudden yet skilled landing. Bulma flew. Screeching, she grabbed onto the arm of her seat as she was proppelled into the air. As suddenly as the descent began, it was over. Panting, Bulma clawed her way into her seat, eyes bulging. The door to her compartment opened, allowing entrance to the neatly groomed pilot. We have reached our destination, if you would please follow me-- he stepped to the side and gestured out the door to the room which held the exit.   
  
  
Closing her mouth, and smoothing back her hair, she regained her composure. Standing shakily, she walked out of the room and down the landing dock. Surrounded by giant Pine trees, singing birds, wild flowers intersperced, she was taken in by the------ She locked eyes on the main building where she could just make out a stiffly standing man at the entrance, whom she took to be the butler, and ran towards him. Mere feet from the steps, she misjudged the depth and content of a seemingly harmless and shallow puddle. WHAM! She blinked the out of her eyes, groaning.   
  
  
She looked up and saw a face smirking in one of the uppermost windows, learing out at her. Before she could get a good look at it, the person vanished. The man made no move to assist her as she struggled upright and ascended the steps, rather he dabbed a delicate white kerchief to his beaklike nose. This is for you. He held out a small white envelope, gingerly holding it out to her with the tips of his pointer finger and thumb.   
  
  
She glared at him, snatching the parcel from him. If he hadn't been wearing white gloves, it would have left a nasty papercut. Thank you. You are _much_ too kind, really.   
  
  
He looked at her disdainfully. Due to your present, he paused, _condition_ it must be requested that you walk around to the back of the building and enter through the kitchen.  
  
  
Muddy, wet, tired, Bulma stared up at him her eyes widening with fury. Then, she smiled, sweet and bitingly cheerful. Of course! That would be delightful, no trouble at all! If you wouldn't mind taking these for me. She slipped her gunk encrusted sandals and handed them to the man, making sure he had a good hold on them, while smearing them all over his white suit coat. Whoops! Clumsy me, I must have slipped. Smiling at him sweetly, she walked briskly down the steps and towards the back of the building, unaware of an extra set of eyes that observed her unnoticed from a window.   
  
  
  
  
**Okay, I know that was short, but never fear, if you guys like it, I'll update again within a few days (I have no life). ^_~  
****Please review!!! Good or bad I'll take it all. ^_^**


	3. The Bitch vs The Beast PART ONE

**As Promised, here is my update! (Sort of short, cause its CHRISTMAS TIME and Ive been busy shopping and buying into the commerciality of the holiday.....BUT, no worries! You'll get a nice surprise... ^_~  
  
In reply to:  
  
-Da Bomb3-- It's been a while since I'd been on fanfiction.net, but I do believe I had this at a higher rating, due to some plot twists I have running around my head, but since I've been gone, they took away NC-17..... If I post any NC-17 chapters, I'll let you guys know ahead of time, and place an alternate chapter up for those of you who aren't into reading that stuff. ^_^;;   
*Thanks to all you guys who reviewed!! Keep it up! If you have anything you'd like to see in the story, lemme know, and I'll see what I can do! ^_~  
ENJOY!!!!!! MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!!!!!! (This is my present to YOU!)**  
  
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Bulma reached the kitchen door. She reached for the knob, turning it. Locked. Red faced, she tried the knob again, muttering. I'll get that fucking penguin back for this.. she looked to the left, eyeing the chin-level window. Bloody hell. Standing on tiptoe, she budged the window open. Gripping the grooves with her toes, she hauled herself onto the ledge, her torso hanging in the kitched, her rump saluting the pine trees.   
  
  
Who the hell do you think you are?  
  
  
Her head jerked up, eyes wide. A sullen looking young man sat in a chair at the center of the room, scowling at her. There was no mistaking that face, a younger and more handsome version of his father's, though decidedly more cross.   
  
  
Uhm... ah.. She wiggled her hind quarters through the window, and maneuvered to her feet. I'm Bulma. Bulma Briefs. _Better try and start this out right. Er... as right as one can, entering through a kitchen window. _She held out her right hand to him expectantly.  
  
  
He looked at her disdainfully, keeping his arms crossed, silent. Bulma lowered her hand. She took a deep breath, cooling her temper. She smiled. I assume that you are Vegeta. I was hired by your parents to----  
  
  
Silence, woman! I am Vegeta no Ouji, and you will address me as such. _Woman._   
  
  
Her jaw fell open. Face red and eyes narrowed, she stalked up to him, hands on hips. He looked down at her bare muddy feet and sneered. Aiming her finger at his nose, Bulma gritted her teeth. Listen, you pompous overbearing sonofabitch! I didn't come all the way out here to listen to your bullshit, so you can just stick it up your ass with the stick that's already there. She glowered If you have issues' I suggest you take them up with your father, NOT me. I'm just here for the money. That wasn't entirely true, about the money. She loved her job, but she was sensing that this man was going to be more than she had bargained for.  
  
  
His black eyes flashed dangerously. I suggest you remove your finger before I break it off.  
  
  
Her eyes widened. She stepped back a few paces. He smirked. She folded her arms under her breasts, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Lets see you get out of that chair and TRY it.  
  
  
Obviously, he couldn't. Vegeta no Ouji was bound to the wheeled chair that allowed him to move without the aid of his now useless legs. Her taunt had hit its mark. Envelope in hand, she left the room.  
  
  
Walking through the hallway, she opened the parcel. Inside was a single key, presumably to her bedroom. A small handscripted note was rolled around the key.   
  
  
_Miss Briefs,  
I and my wife will be visiting the lodge three weeks from today. We look forward to observing the progress you will have made.   
-Vegeta no Ouji XVII  
  
  
__THREE WEEKS???????_ Bulma stared in horror at the slip of paper. How much progress would three weeks produce with that stubborn, infuriating, high and mighty twerp? She swallowed. She didnt know what was going to be worse. Spending a three week battle with the younger Vegeta or facing the wrath of the older one. Sighing, she folded the paper and walked toward the spiraling wooden staircase.   
  
  
A button was positioned beneath a silver light switch, at the base of the staircase. Curious, she looked around to make sure the butler from hell wasn't lurking somewhere in the shadows, she pushed it. The steps flattened, creating a high, spiraling ramp. Pushing the button again, it returned to its orginal state. In order for Vegeta to wheel himself up the ramp, he would have to have had incredible body strength.   
  
  
Shaking her head, she walked up the stairs and over to the door with a note addressed to Miss Briefs' attached to the handle. If she was going to make any progress by the time the no Ouji's arrived, she was going to have to start now. But first, it was time for a bath.  
  
  
~~~**DUN DUN DUN!!! It's time for a _bath_ scene..... I'll let you drool over what my scheming little mind is plotting for THAT one. ^_~ Stay tuned for another action packed update! ^_^;; Sorry that this was so short, just think of it as half of the next update.... thought that one will be much longer. This one is just an appitizer!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**


	4. The Bitch vs The Beast PART TWO

****

You guys ROCK for being so patient with me, I hope you didn't give up! I had major writer's block and almost gave up on this story, but I've gotten my inspiration back! That and how could anyone give up on ol' Veggiehead? ;; I hope you guys like this, because there is more coming. I'm gonna start on the next chapter as soon as I get this one posted, so look for more sometime this weekend (most likely Monday, since I've got to go home this weekend, and will be leaving my computer here at school, allllll alone. sniff) Okay, enough blabber from me, enjoy!

Thanks again to all you guys for reviewing!!! It means a lot, and even if I don't get a lot of reviews, I'm still going to continue this story. Why? Because its fun

Part .2.

"Ahhhhhhhh..." Bulma sighed as she slid into the tub, bubbles frothing over the edge like champagne bubbles from an uncorked bottle. "Now _this_ is something I could get used to." She closed her eyes, letting the tension ebb out of her body. Things were not going how she had envisioned them, and it was only the first day. Bulma would deal with all of that AFTER she got out of the bath, and the way she was feeling right now, that might not be till the next morning. She was exhausted.

Back in his study, Vegeta scowled at his computer screen. His parents were returning in three weeks to see the progress made by that disgusting woman. He narrowed his eyes. Vegeta was a prince among men, and he would be damned before letting a woman, especially one of such annoying personality, teach him how to walk again. Freshly incensed, he wheeled himself out of the study and toward the staircase. Ms. Briefs would be leaving, and she would be leaving now, once he got through with her. He chuckled evilly at the image of her quaking with fear. He reached the staircase, neglecting the button entirely, and began wheeling himself up the stairs. **Macho, ain't he.. I _had _to put some of his superior strength into this story, even if he IS just a human in it.**

The water had begun to get a tad too cool for Bulma's liking, so she reached down and pulled to plug to let some of the excess water drain in order for her to be able to refill it with nice hot steamy water. She sat up, reaching behind her for the remote to the big screen television, which conveniently placed on the wall adjacent to the bathtub. The door slammed open.

"Woman, what do you think you're doing??" Vegeta glared at her, a slight flush rising to his face, much to his annoyance.

Bulma covered her breasts, accidentally dropping the plug to the drain onto the floor beside the tub, which, of course, decided to roll around before coming to a halt by the door. "Damn it!" She felt her face flush. She narrowed her eyes at him "What does it LOOK like I'm doing? I'm taking a bath, you perv!"

"This is MY house, woman, you should ask permission before using it." He folded his arms, smirking at her discomfort. _This is going to be easier than I thought._

That bastard! "It might be YOUR house, but for now, this is MY bathroom, and I'll do whatever I want with it, _or_ in it." She uncovered her breasts. Vegeta's jaw clenched, and he willed the flush away from his face.

"And seeing as I was bathing, when you so rudely interrupted me, that's exactly what I'm going to continue to do." She reached down for the loofa, turning her back to him. Her hand made contact with the porcelain bottom. She bit her bottom lip. _Shit! _The water had completely emptied from the bathtub, leaving Bulma in a layer of leftover suds.

Vegeta mentally composed himself. She was nothing spectacular, he had seen naked women plenty of times, and she had nothing that they didn't have. So why was he so taken aback? "Looking for this?" He reached down, picking up the stopper.

Bulma glared at him. "Is there a reason why you're here?"

"I might ask you the same question, woman." He folded the stopper into his hand and crossed his arms. "I want you to leave. I don't need you here and I don't need your 'help,' as if _you_ could help _me_."

"That's not what your father seems to think. He seems to think that you DO need me. That you DO need my help." She cocked an eyebrow at him. "What do you have against me, anyway?"

"You should learn your place, woman." He tossed the stopper up and caught it. "My servants know theirs, and since that is what you are, you would be wise to take a few notes. I don't tolerate cheek from anyone, let alone a woman like yourself."

Bulma's face reddened in anger, a vein throbbing in her temple. "Tolerate cheek? Well, tolerate THIS!" She stood up, turned her back to him, and bent over. Turning around, she climbed out of the tub, snatched a towel from the sink and covered her personage. "Where do you get off telling me what to do?!" She stomped over in front of him, bending down so she was face to face with the furious No Ouji. "You are right though, I'm not your equal. And if I recall correctly, there is something that I have and you don't." She smirked. "The ability to walk."

No worries, peeps, next one will be longer. This one is only short because it is the second half of a two part chapter


	5. Intrigue, darling, intrigue

I don't own DBZ or anything to do with it, so bugger off !

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Vegeta stared at her, dumbfounded. He sat there as she smirked, turned and then proceeded to walk out the bathroom door.

Taking full advantage of his stunned silence, Bulma made her escape. Her cocky demeanor belied her fear. She had just mouthed-off to possibly one of the most dangerous men she had ever met, and the fact that he was wheelchair bound did nothing to quell her nervousness.

Her step quickened as she heard the bathroom door slam shut behind her, the force vibrating through the floor beneath her feet. She just had to reach her bedroom and she would be safe.

"**_VvvvvVvvvvVvvvvVvvvv!!!"_**

Her heart pounded as the thrumming sound of Vegeta's wheels came closer and closer and closer.

"**VvvvvVvvvvVvvvvVvvvv**"

Only two more doors to go! Sweat began to bead on her forehead as she broke into a full out sprint. To hell with propriety and composure, there was a madman speeding towards her!

"**VVVVVVVV**-----**SCREECH**"

The squeal of Vegeta's tires coming to an abrupt halt was piercing.

"Bitch." His low growl sent a chill racing up Bulma's spine.

She slammed the door shut, but in the brief second that she glimpsed his face, it was enough to send her scampering across her room, grab a large armchair from the hearth and push it linebacker-style against the door, effectively barring the entrance from any outside intruders.

What she didn't know, was that the door she assumed concealed a spacious walk-in closet, actually revealed the passageway between Vegeta's room and her own.

Exhausted, Bulma slumped onto her bed, not even bothering to change into her chemise. _Tomorrow is going to be one hell of a day._.. She closed her eyes tight, trying to force out the image of his face that seemed burned into her mind. _For an anal-retentive egomaniac, he's really cute..._ Groaning, she crawled under her covers. She couldn't afford to grow attached to a client, especially one as rude and dangerous as Vegeta.

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Bulma reached over and hit the snooze button on the beeping alarm clock next to her bed. First she would get some breakfast and then it would be time to face Vegeta. Her cheeks burned at the thought.

She couldn't stand his superior attitude or his rudeness, but despite that she was still strongly attracted to him. Running a comb through her tangled hair, she pulled on a pair of red exercise pants with racing strips on the sides and a cropped white 'beater.'

Even though she had spent more money than most people make in a lifetime on new clothes, she was still partial to that particular outfit. It was her comfort outfit, and if at any time she needed some comfort, it was now.

"_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP---" _She had forgotten that the snooze was on, and walking over to the night stand, she turned the alarm off. Turning to walk out the door, she stubbed her toe on what appeared to be a loose floorboard.

"DAMNITALL!" She toppled onto the bed holding her wounded appendage. "So bloody filthy rich and they can't even afford to fix a fucking floor board?!"

Wincing, she put on her socks and shoes, heading out to the bathroom, limping slightly as her toe throbbed painfully. (She had a perfectly fine bathroom inside of her bedroom, but for some reason she preferred the one she had bathed in the night before) Once finished, she walked down the staircase and toward the kitchen.

Bulma swung the kitchen door open, and made her way inside. Dawn was rising and the room was coated in a pink/orange glow.

"May I help you?" A voice broke her reverie. She turned to her left, facing the disdainful man from yesterday's shoe encounter. From his tone, she gathered that he really didn't care if she needed help or not.

Deciding to try and kill with kindness, Bulma smiled at him. "I was just looking for breakfast."

He arched an eyebrow. "The pantry is over there," he gestured to a door with a gloved hand.

Fuck kindness, Bulma rolled her eyes at him. "Do you have a name, or should I just call you Lurch?" She opened the door and rummaged around for something that wouldn't take long to prepare or eat.

"My name is Smithers, Miss Briefs." Smithers sounded irritated, but quickly regained his composure and left the room.

"What a fruitcake." Bulma finally settled on some bread and an orange. She would deal with 'Smithers' later, there was no way she was going to put up with this every morning.

Closing the door, she looked around for somewhere to sit. Not seeing any chairs in the room, she made her way to the back door, to sit outside.

"Nice gimp, bitch."

Her hand froze on the handle. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she turned around and faced Vegeta, ignoring the gimp comment. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you any time soon." She arched an eyebrow.

"On the contrary, woman. I want to see why my father hired you. What makes you special that they think you can 'fix' me." He spat out the words, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Glowering, he met her stare. "You won't succeed. There is nothing you can do that I can't or haven't already done."

Bulma closed the distance between them, her conceit over her skills taking charge. "Try me."

Vegeta's eyes lowered to her mouth. Bulma's heart skipped a beat.

"I would never sink so low as to try someone like you." His eyes didn't waver from her lips. "But your skills, rather the lack of, I will try." And with that, he was gone.

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I know, I know, there wasn't much action in this one, but the next chapter will have: "peeping toms," wet tee's, and the sparks are going to start flying between our two favorite characters. Read and review!


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